Why not a Religious Vocation “Mission”?

Over at Word on Fire Ministries, Rozann Carter notes a Mormon celebrity putting his career on hold to make a two-year “mission” and wonders why Catholics don’t have a similar mechanism in place to encourage religious vocations:

I don’t agree with the theology of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Nor am I advocating that charity, service, and evangelism should be mandated, like some sort of religious draft. But, there is something here, something in the Mormon faith, that speaks of another era, something that we, as Catholics, would do well to recover.

It seems to me that somewhere along the line, between what journalist Tom Brokaw termed “greatest generation” and today, duty and responsibility lost their mundane-ness, their everyday quality, their non-complicated expectedness and began to be valorized and assigned a level of heroism that would have seemed utterly foreign to the “responsible” and “dutiful” of an earlier day. Doing what one should do, rather than being something praiseworthy, was commonplace. I would argue that living in the “should,” even if subconsciously, was a majority position—there was a general consensus on what was expected and these expectations went relatively unquestioned. Working hard, accepting blame for shortcomings, loving loyally, and committing to tasks and relationships independently of emotive fulfillment were characteristics that were, at least as a cultural norm, accepted without fanfare. The commonplace was not revered; rather, what is praiseworthy now was commonplace then.

It’s a very well-done piece and I urge you to read the whole thing. Carter acknowledges that a Catholic vocation to the religious life or the priesthood is very different from a two-year mission, but wonders:

. . . what if every young Catholic . . . gave the religious life a year of their time? . . . What if we, as Catholic mentors, parents, and even young people, changed the course of our Catholic conversation to allow this consideration, now deemed the stuff of bing-ing halos and adoration chapel whispers, of hush-hush spiritual director meetings and nervous confrontations with grandchild-ready parents, to be posed, somewhat dutifully and with a sense of healthy responsibility, by every Catholic parent to their child.

It’s a good question and one I’ve wondered about, myself. Some will naturally argue that a postulancy is a religious “try-out” and it is, but it is also a very formal sort of try-out. Something structured but less formal, I think, is what Carter means, but I wonder if it can be designed in a practical manner that is not terribly disruptive to the ongoing life of a community? I’m not sure how such a situation would work.

Many religious orders do have “associate” programs whereby young lay people can spend some time volunteering and working with communities — particularly in active apostolates — but again, it attracts those who are already vocation-minded, and they are a distinct minority.

It seems to me that if the idea of a religious vocation is to be “normalized” then what is needed is more serious (and regular) encounters between our CCD students and the professed religious who are actually living the vowed lives.

That might be easier to do in the Mid-west, where vocations are on the rise, but in some places, it’s a tall order. Here on Long Island (and throughout the coastal regions) there is a real dearth of religious vocations. How do you attract young people to the idea of such a life, when it is profoundly aged-and-gasping and barely represented around them?

It’s certainly an idea worth discussing, though, don’t you think? As is the notion of teaching about marriage as a true, vowed vocation, and call to holiness, too.

Speaking of vocations, the Vatican has received its final report on women religious in the US:

A three-year survey of women’s religious life in the United States has concluded with the filing of a final report by the Vatican-appointed Apostolic Visitator Mother Mary Clare Millea.

“Although there are concerns in religious life that warrant support and attention, the enduring reality is one of fidelity, joy, and hope,” Mother Millea said in a Jan. 9 release . . . Along with her comprehensive report on women’s religious communities, Mother Millea is presenting individual reports on nearly 400 religious institutes to the congregation’s secretary Archbishop Joseph Tobin. These reports are likely to be completed by the spring of 2012.

It’s a rather quiet end to what began as an issue full of paranoid high drama:

Coupled with the cynicism that dismisses out-of-hand the possibility that the visitation could be anything less than a hostile takeover (with an ever-present threat, apparently, of “violence”), Schneider’s “new form of Religious Life . . . Religious who are not cloistered and ministers who are not ordained” sounds like it promotes a selective sort of openness–one so narrow that the Holy Spirit may have to suck in His breath and slide in sideways to get access.

Meanwhile, the Benedictine Nuns of St. Cecilia’s Abbey, in Ryde, on the Isle of Wight (who, along with Stanbrook Abbey, helped Rumer Godden write her brilliant and unforgettable In this House of Brede) have been fortunate in the regular reception of young vocations; they have just celebrated the solemn profession of Sr. Elizabeth Burgess, OSB

St Cecilia’s Abbey, Ryde is a cloistered community of Benedictine nuns of the Solesmes Congregation. . . They have been blessed with a number of young vocations who have persevered to solemn vows in these last years. This week saw the profession of Sr Elizabeth Burgess. She made her solemn (life) vows as a nun and received the Consecration of Virgins. Our abbot was delegated by our bishop to preside at the Mass and concomitant ceremonies. The liturgy took over two hours and was sung in Latin in exquisite Gregorian Chant.

I understand Sr. Elizabeth is all of 25 years-old, having entered the abbey at 19. That used to be quite a normal thing. Nowadays we tend to think any lifelong vow made at “only 25″ years of age to be rather an unusual and foolish thing. Everyone is supposed to hold out, keep the options open and wait until all the worldly things have been done.

But there is nothing more radical than following the call of the Holy Spirit, wherever one is led, to the exclusion of all the world’s conventions.

You can read the homily of Sr. Elizabeth’s solemn profession here

As Archbishop Timothy Dolan has said, “His call trumps our Curriculum Vitae; His grace lifts up our natures…”

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Related: The Dominican Nuns at Summit will soon be celebrating a solemn profession, too

Learning The Artist's Rule

I’m a sucker for wavy stripes; I find them restful. So when I saw the cover of Christine Valters Paintner’s The Artist’s Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom, I gave a little gasp of appreciation — okay, I stared at it in a kind of bliss for a while — and anticipated in those blurred, calming lines the message: more restful stuff within!

Well. . .yes and no. There’s a little treasure trove within the book, but how restful one finds it depends, ultimately, upon one’s disposition and how much one puts into this “nurturing of the creative soul” business.

As with pretty much everything in life, what you get back is a fair measure of what you put in (or out). But this book is worth putting something in; that would be effort.

Paintner, a Catholic spiritual director and Benedictine Oblate who writes here at Patheos over in the Progressive Christian Portal, is a beautiful writer. Her piece sharing her dog’s impact on her prayer life was a recent treat, and she has a lot of wisdom to impart on the practice of contemplative prayer, in all of its mysteries and occasional discomforts. Being an Oblate, myself — and sadly writing a great deal less than Christine on the subject of prayer, especially the Liturgy of the Hours, than I would like to — I am very grateful for her insights and instruction.

The Artist’s Rule is a twelve week “course” in healing, creative expression that builds on the wisdom and insights culled from monastic practices, and from the Rule of St. Benedict, which is fundamentally a guide to marking the passage of time — making it sacred, in prayer — and practicing holy mindfulness of the Presence of God (and therefore of Good) in the everyday. While I am not putting Paintner’s book on the same level as our Holy Father Benedict, it is very fair to say that her “Rule” gives a helpful assist.

I have written elsewhere about my difficulty with the Benedictine practice of Hospitality

Hospitality is a substantial part of being a Benedictine, and it is a confusing thing, for me. Once I get the people into my house, I like to serve them good food and wine; I like to laugh with them and share memories, and surprise them with little gifts. Sometimes I’m even sad to see them leave. But until the moment they’ve crossed that threshold, I am negative about the whole endeavor.

And this, I suppose, is the deeper, more hidden reason I am a Benedictine: because the God Who Knows what we need to work on supplies the therapeutic mechanism, in one way or another.

Conscious of this struggle, after reading the introduction and first chapter, I turned quickly to “Week Seven” and Paintner’s thoughts on Hospitality, which is deeply connected to the Benedictine disciplines of Conversion and Stability. There, I encountered a notion I’d suspected for a while — that difficulty in welcoming others as Christ is rooted in one’s difficulty in welcoming the Christ within oneself — but in Paintner’s gentle voice, this didn’t seem nearly as harsh as it has seemed in my own.

Paintner recognizes, and wants the reader to recognize, that our inner selves, our passions, fears, miseries and imaginings all exist and run amok as part and parcel of God’s gift. To make them welcome within us, and give them expression, is to greet them in Christ, accepting the whole imperfect self as a work-in-progress — both Christ’s progress and our own.

Not all are called to the arts, and I admit, Paintner’s encouragement to pick up paper, pastels or crayons and venture forth with the courage to create “bad art” left me remarkably unswayed; I have no gift in that area — why do you think I am so fond of wavy lines? Because I can’t draw a straight one! — and even with permission to produce “bad” art, I was happier to accept her invitation to try my hand at bad, if mindful, haiku and poetry.

Putting something in to the effort, I was rewarded with something better than I had any right to anticipate — a poem I can’t share (because it’s personal) but rather like, and Jesus and I have giggled over it in a very satisfying way.

Invest some time in The Artist’s Rule. The return will be worth it!

Read more about The Artist’s Rule at Patheos’ Book Club, and catch this interview with Christine Valters Paintner, too.

St. Benedict: Stability and Detachment

Today is the feastday of St. Benedict of Nurcia, who is regarded the Father of Western Monasticism. He is also one of the Patron Saints of Europe, and our dear Holy Father Benedict XVI, who made a retreat at the saints own Subiaco monastery just before his elevation to the Papacy. Although I am a very bad Benedictine, I do my poor Oblate best to honor our founder, today, whose Holy Rule has shaped and defined monasticism for both Benedictines and Trappists and has even been adopted by corporations looking for a healthier and more productive way to effectively build their teams.

In the comments this morning, on another thread, someone quotes from the Holy Rule:

St. Benedict teaches that growth comes from accepting people as they are, not as we would like them to be. His references to the stubborn and the dull, the undisciplined and the restless, the careless and the scatterbrained have the ring of reality. Though Benedict was no idealist with respect to human nature, he understood that the key to spiritual progress lies in constantly making the effort to see Christ in each person — no matter how irritating or tiresome…

Stability means that the monastic pledges lifelong commitment to a particular community. To limit oneself voluntarily to one place with one group of people for the rest of one’s life makes a powerful statement. Contentment and fulfillment do not exist in constant change; true happiness cannot necessarily be found anywhere other than in this place and this time. For Benedictines, stability proclaims rootedness, at-homeness, that this place and this monastic family will endure.

Likewise, by fidelity to the monastic way, Benedictines promise to allow themselves to be shaped and molded by the community — to pray at the sound of the bell when it would be so much more convenient to continue working, to forswear pet projects for the sake of community needs, to be open to change, to listen to others, and not to run away when things seem frustrating or boring or hopeless.
–Source

In the post below, Father Robert Barron brings up the lesson that freedom comes from detachment, not just of things, but of our very lives and feelings. This begins, of course, with a detachment from the material, and in today’s reading of the Rule, here is what we find:

Whether Monks Ought to Have Anything of Their Own

This vice especially is to be cut out of the monastery by the roots. Let no one presume to give or receive anything without the Abbot’s leave, or to have anything as his own — anything whatever, whether book or tablets or pen or whatever it may be — since they are not permitted to have even their bodies or wills at their own disposal; but for all their necessities let them look to the Father of the monastery. And let it be unlawful to have anything which the Abbot has not given or allowed. Let all things be common to all, as it is written, and let no one say or assume that anything is his own.

Obviously, an oblate — living in the world and not “in community” — must adapt the Rule to his/her situation. For me, detachment means not owning a lot of stuff (and I still own more than I should) or more than I actually need. I still chuckle to recall an office co-worker who exasperatedly asked me if I didn’t something other than than the same two pair of shoes I wore, day-after-day, to work. She really didn’t understand why I didn’t need more than two pair.

But it is something I clearly struggle with and must ponder and pray on a great deal more. I must invite the grace of detachment into my life more fully — detachment from food, which is a crutch and a comfort; detachment from my fierce opinions, and from ego and all ambition. I like this article on the singing Benedictines at Abbaye Notre Dame l’Annonciation: “I really loved clothes,” one nun admits, “but there’s freedom in wearing my habit.”

It is a counter-cultural, radical way to live in a world where we are constantly told to get more, be more, buy more, but I’ll be saying more about that in my column, tomorrow, so I’ll stop there.

Benedict’s Rule was written in the 6th century, and it is less than 100 pages long, yet it speaks through the ages, to our own, and challenges our whole lifetime. I can’t imagine any Christian library being complete without it.


Related:
The Leadership Void; We Need St. Benedict
Benedict in Lent

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How Pilgrim Monks are to be Received

Part of my Lent has been re-reading the Holy Rule of St. Benedict, pertinent to the day. It’s been speaking to me in very personal and private ways.

Today as I contemplate a great decision that involved travel and has me doubting and unsure, the lesson is about stability, which is actually one of the Benedictine vows:

If a pilgrim monk coming from a
distant region
wants to live as a guest of the monastery,
let him be received for as long a time as he desires,
provided he is content
with the customs of the place as he finds them,
and does not disturb the monastery by
superfluous demands,
but is simply content with what he finds.

If, however, he censures or points out
anything reasonably
and with the humility of charity,
let the Abbot consider prudently
whether perhaps it was for that very purpose
that the Lord sent him.
If afterwards he should want to bind himself
to stability,
his wish should not be denied him,
especially since there has been opportunity
during his stay as a guest
to discover his character.
– RB, Chapter 61

Every day, our Holy Father Benedict instructs, even in ways that are not obvious; he forces me to slow down, and to ponder what the Rule means to me, interiorly, and where I am falling short. What a worthwhile read.

On a lighter note, but it’s actually pretty serious, too: This is wonderful!

On the Craftsmen

Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 57 for April 10

If there are craftsmen in the monastery,
let them practice their crafts
with all humility,
provided the Abbot has given permission.
But if any one of them becomes conceited
over his skill in his craft,
because he seems to be conferring a benefit
on the monastery,
let him be taken from his craft
and no longer exercise it unless,
after he has humbled himself,
the Abbot again gives him permission.
If any of the work of the craftsmen is to be sold,
let those through whose hands the
transactions pass
see to it that they do not presume to practice any fraud.
Let them always remember Ananias and Saphira,
let perhaps the death which these incurred
in the body,
they themselves and any others
who would deal dishonestly with the monastery’s property
should suffer in the soul.
And in the prices let not the sin of avarice creep in,
but let the good always be sold a little cheaper
than they can be sold by people in the world,
“that in all things God may be glorified.”

As I’ve said before, I really do appreciate this version of the Holy Rule. It is coming across to me this Lent with a clarity (and conviction) I have never appreciated before. As a writer, I need to hone my craft more carefully, and with more humility.

But since I am a Catholic writer, I never have to worry about being overcompensated!

Speaking of which, I have been remiss in pointing out to folks that the Main Landing Page of the Catholic Portal now has a link to the Mystic Monks, and their delectable coffees, including (fanfare, please) the Pascha Java, which is full of white chocolate and bourbon notes and is like no other coffee you’ve ever tasted, and your purchase will help to support Patheos!


Image Source

Bad Benedictine; "I love you, go home!"

As I anticipate coming into my tenth year as a Benedictine Oblate, I rejoice that the effect of Benedictine spirituality in my life has helped me to become less savage than I was, although I am still quite feral in some ways. But, as I explain in my latest column at First Things, there is a part of the Holy Rule of St. Benedict that still has me stymied: Benedictine Hospitality, and St. Benedict’s dictum that we must receive everyone we encounter as receiving Christ. I have a long way to go, there.

I became a Benedictine, rather than a Secular Franciscan, because my instincts have always been to the quiet side of life. I have always preferred prayerful contemplation and reading to almost anything else, and my instinct has always run toward the decidedly monastic-to-hermitish over the social. Franciscans, like their Father Francis, are much too jolly and prone toward get-togethers and celebrations. As an Oblate—with my own monastery hundreds of miles away, and no other Oblates living nearby, to my knowledge—there is little chance of my being invited to a mixer.

It’s not that I don’t like people. Generally speaking, I do like people; I think they’re funny, interesting, and mostly well-intended. I just don’t like being around them very much, and increasingly I wish I could communicate with everyone via skype or internet and leave all that physicality behind.

This has nothing to do with love. Whom I love, I love to near-distraction. And I dearly love the people I don’t want to be around. My husband’s family is more “mine” than my own biological siblings ever could be, my nieces and nephews amaze and delight me—and I just don’t understand why I have to get together with them all the time, or why I am having everyone over to celebrate Easter. When my son jokes that our doormat should say “go away,” he’s more right than he realizes.

Read the rest to find out how Lent is helping

DigitalNun's Catholic Daily

The Benedictine Nuns of Holy Trinity Monastery in East Hendred in the UK are very sharp ladies. They continue the Benedictine tradition that once upon a time took place in the scriptorium by adapting it to the modern age and through their sophisticated website which offers an Online Retreat Service, a blog, digibooks, podcasts and more.

Their offerings are uniformly excellent, but my favorite thing is the DigitalNun Daily, a virtual daily newspaper in which they cull together online articles on a broad range of topics — typical Benedictines, they have curious minds and that means they serve up pieces on religion, art, internet design and coding, history politics, even typesetting!

The sisters are interesting in their opinions, too. Here one of them, I think Sr. Catherine, links to a first-glimpse of the illustrations that will accompany the new English missal. Noting that they are perfectly beautiful but from a different age, she writes:

I believe that our own generation is capable of producing art that is both faith-filled and beautiful, and part of me is sorry that the missal editors have not sought out some contemporary artist to illustrate its pages. I don’t subscribe to the view that all contemporary art is ugly and brutal. I do subscribe to the view that our churches and everything in them should be the best we are capable of. A beautiful medieval psalter is a safe choice but is it the best choice? What do you think?

Personally, I’m happy whenever I don’t have to look at minimalist woodblock stamping, but I don’t disagree that some modern illustrators could have done magnificent things with the opportunity to illustrate the new missal.

Other headlines from their paper:

Pope picks Augustinian nun to write Good Friday meditations

Catholic/Atheist meetings end with Pope Benedict appeal to Youth

True Colors Infographic; the breakdown of color preferences by gender

Information Missing from Survey Claiming Catholic Support for Gay Marriage

Brooklyn Couple Race Against Time; Both diagnosed with Cancer in Space of a Week

Madness in the Realm; Narratives of Mental Illness in Late Medieval France

That’s just a few headlines. Do yourself a favor; subscribe to the Digitalnun Daily. You’ll like it!